Rumplestiltskin: The Father
by AagedPerceptions
Summary: A short re-imagining of the Grimm classic. Rated T for Course language and violence in later chapters. *Each chapter is measured as a day in the story.
1. Chapter 1

Rumplestiltskin: The Father

A pale, translucent figure drifted mindlessly through an old, crumbled church-yard. A gruesome phantom of his former self, Rumplestiltskin's lucid body was halved from his right hip to the left side of his ribcage. Moaning and wailing, he let loose cries of unbearable agony, trying to drown the memories forever fresh in his mind.

_Why am I here?_ He thought. _I am not religious. What do I owe a God who never held any compassion for a creature as wretched as myself?_ Perhaps it fit his mood. Screams pierce the night. _Why had life been so cruel?_ His wails fade as he remembers those last few days before his death. It felt so recent, yet he knew must have been nearly a century ago.

The wind whistled through his hair, as he flew atop his faithful flying soup ladle. He flew to claim his prize. It was more than a prize; it was to be his child. The castle came into view. Hours after the birth, he glided into the open window of the tallest tower, startling the young woman lying in bed. He almost felt a sliver of remorse for what he was about to do, but it was what it was.

"You knew this day would come," he whispered. "I'm here for th-"

"No!" she screeched, cutting him off. She crawled from bed as best she could, but she was still weak from the birth. Cradling the newborn, she backed into the corner. She pleaded and begged. Despite it being no ones fault but her own. Still, he pitied her. The internal struggle didn't show upon his face. _The deal was struck, the child is mine._ Disgust flitted across his features. _But her promise was made in ignorance. She didn't understand the price._ The moments passed as he debated his desire for the child against the long torn shreds of his conscience. The ghost of his humanity won out. He felt merciful. For the first time in a century, he felt weakness. _Does she deserve the chance?_

"A game then," he thought aloud.

"A game?"

"Dumb and deaf?"

"You'd have me gamble with my child?" she scoffed.

"A child you already foolishly lost," he howled, quickly losing his composure. "I offer you opportunity, a chance to win back the precious life that you carelessly threw away."

Her presence aggravated him. He viewed her in less favorable light with every passing second. _Hadn't it been her fault anyway? She was the one who'd bragged. She was the one who dug herself deeper and deeper. As if the little cunt could really spin straw into gold. Did I not come to her rescue? I used my limited resources. What power I had I used. And what a task, it left me nearly dead to weave such treasures from such trash. That was no small deed. I paid with my flesh. I told her the price and she accepted._ He realized he was ranting. He had to stop before he built up a head of steam. He glared at the girl. He hadn't even noticed that she had continued pleading.

"ENOUGH!" he bellowed. "I will give you three chances on three days to… to…"

He paused for a second to consider what the stakes should be.

"guess my name," he said with a malicious grin. He silently congratulated himself for such ingenious. The days had long since passed when anyone that walked this Earth had known his name.

"Expect my visit tomorrow, your highness," he spat. With that he flew from the room atop his spoon.

He camped not far from the castle. He went about finding something to eat. He was anxious. He had expected to have the child already. It mattered little in the end, but _What if she somehow discovered my name?_ The premonition was gone before he could realize the significance. He dismissed his misgivings, and drifted to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke the next morning. It was uneventful. He tried to pass the time with simple amusements, but his mind was restless. Fears that seemed ridiculous the previous evening persisted through the night. He grew increasingly nervous. By mid-day he simply sat and waited. That evening he made his way to the castle.

"Let's make this quick, I do not want to be here." He had startled her. _Perhaps, I should have announced myself._ "Guess."

"Can't I-"

"No I will here none of it. Take your guesses or you will receive none."

She stared listlessly for a full sixty seconds. Hundreds of thousands of names and she was to guess but one?

"Is your name…Gudrun?"

"No." Her face visibly sagged.

"Albrecht?"

"No." Her demeanor sank dramatically.

Nearly on the floor she took her final guess.

"I can't possible know!" Her voice raising in hysterics, but seeing no sympathy forthcoming she guessed. "Joakahainen?"

"No," he stated coldly. "I will be here tomorrow night."

As he flew from the room, she collapsed. Her body racked with painful sobs. If only for a moment, he felt a twinge of pity for the pitiful creature that lay prone on the stone floor.

His fears dispelled, that night he celebrated. It was only the first night, but he was certain he had already won. The joy faded as he contemplated he even wanted the child. It seemed fitting. Though she didn't know then what her pride had cost her, she certainly knew now. He gleaned a spiteful satisfaction from that thought. _But what of when I actually have the child?_ Something stirred in him. _It has been lonely since I shed my human existence. I'll finally have a companion._

_What if she resents me?_ He was uneasy; usually he hardly cared for mortal's opinions, but… He refused to admit it to himself, but a part of him cared for his imagined daughter's approval. _I'll lie to her_, he decided. _Spin a tale of a lost orphan_. He rationalized his future justifications. _It'll be easier for me. She'll listen more readily. She'll trust me._With that he readied for bed, and slept comfortably in the web of his own lies. Lies to others, and more importantly, lies to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

The next evening, after recovering from his festivities, he sobered in mood and prepared for that night, knowing it would be far from pleasant. He'd be dealing with the wretch. As the sun set, he flew from his campsite and navigated his way to that bleak tower.

He drifted in the open window. Something had changed. The atmosphere was palpable. She sat in a chair in a corner next to the fireplace. She cradled the infant. She glimpsed him, upon which and angry grimace shot across her face.

"Have you decided on your guesses?" he asked.

"Why bother? Who am I to barter with such a thing of evil?"

Her words struck him like a blow to the head. He was absolutely speechless. _I'm certainly not good_, but something about the label spoke aloud struck home.

"But why not? Tell me, does your name reflect such a vile and cruel nature?" she questioned.

_She's grown so bitter in such a short time_, he reflected.

"Is it ghoulish fiend? Could your name possible be Mammon, bastard son of the devil?"

He couldn't help but shake his head.

"Oh really? I can only think of one other name you could possible go by. Surely you are Lucifer, evil incarnate?"

_What a wicked tongue_. Regaining his composure, he looked her straight in the eye and failed at controlling the rage that rose up within him.

"Evil am I?" he asked. "Evil sits before me," he shrieked. "You sold your first born to me, knowing from the start exactly what I am."

He could see the loathing in her eyes. She was willing to judge others, but not herself.

"Bear in mind, you may not have sold your soul to the devil, but your crimes are far more heinous. You sold your child to the devil, for the sake of pride."

He mounted the soup shovel he called steed.

"Be prepared, tomorrow I come. I come to claim my child."

With that he jetted from the room. _That impertinent whore! So she has decided to judge Rumplestiltskin. I will take so much pleasure from the events that will unfold tomorrow_. He could not stop the smile that stole across his face as he thought about the child that would soon be his. It was time to celebrate. If he was happy last night, it was nothing compared to the elation he felt this night. He piled his fire high. He roasted the tenderest meats, and uncorked kegs of wine centuries old, set down by monks long ago. Payments rendered for services past. Perhaps it was the wine, but he felt compelled to express himself in rhyme and song.

"With pan I bake, in pot I brew.

Today for one.

Tomorrow for two.

Little knows my royal dame,

Rumplestiltskin is my name…"

He sang on for a long while, inventing new verses as he went along. Much later, he passed out beside the dying embers. Little did he know that the treacherous queen had plotted against him, and as he slept her fastest messenger was pounding across woods and plain to inform her of what he had learned.


	4. Chapter 4

Rumplestiltskin woke the next morning in a more somber mood. He didn't think much of it though. He figured he'd indulged in too much wine. He packed his camp. Tonight he would go home with his prize, or so he thought. That evening he floated into the castle for the last time.

"I have come for my payment. Take your guesses or surrender my child," he said indifferently.

He was slightly put off. The queen wore a smirk across her face that made him uneasy. He couldn't help but feel a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh, I am so glad you made it," said the queen. Every syllable dripped with sarcasm. "I thought to myself for quite some time last night," she said. "I wondered what his name could be."

She was clearly enjoying this.

"Be done with your game you wretched bitch!" Rumplestiltskin shouted.

"You want me to be blunt?" she asked. "Well, as you wish."

All pretense dropped.

"Begone from here Rumplestiltskin; I will not give you MY daughter."

"NO!" he howled. _Such pain. Who knew the universe held such cruelty?_

He wailed in frustration and stomped his foot. The first stomp cracked the cobbled floor. The second produced gravel. On the third drop of his sole, he stomped so furiously, his foot rent the stone and he sank to his thigh. The two halves of the floor slid and trapped his leg painfully. His leg was stuck fast. Tears streamed from his eyes, not only from the crevice's agonizing hold, but from the frustration of being cheated.

_Agony! What horrible hand had fate dealt me in the game of life?_

He tore at his leg, tugging with all his strength. He thought he felt the joint separating. He had to flee; his only though was to be far from this desolate place. With strength born of terror, he gave an incredible pull. The sound of bones snapping and the tearing of flesh echoed off the callous rock walls. He felt his body go numb. He looked down and watched as his life-blood soaked the surrounding stone. He lay there, growing steadily silent. His last moments filled with agony and malice. The last thing to flit through his consciousness was the face of his imagined daughter. _The daughter I never had._

The tormented soul let loose another terrible shriek. A scream that echoed the only feeling he had left toward this world; Pain, crippling frustration, and hate. Hate for every single thing in this hellish existence.


End file.
